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Reed, Myrtle, 1874-1911

"Old Rose and Silver"

The
beautiful face instantly became soft with pity. "My dear child," she
breathed. "My dear little motherless child!"
Juliet went into her open arms as straight as a homing pigeon to its
nest. "Oh, Aunt Francesca," she sobbed, "will you take me and make a
lady out of me?"
"You're already a lady," laughed the older woman amid her tears. "Come
in, Juliet dear--come home!"



XXIV
THE HOUSE WHERE LOVE LIVED
It was past the middle of October, and Allison's injured hand was not
only free of its bandages, but he had partially regained the use of it.
Doctor Jack still lingered, eagerly seizing every excuse that presented
itself.
"I suppose I ought to be back looking for another job," he regretfully
observed to Allison, "but I like it here, and besides, I want to hear
you play on your fiddle before I go."
Allison laughed and hospitably urged him to stay as long as he chose.
Colonel Kent added, heartily, after an old Southern fashion: "My house
is yours."
Crimson and golden leaves rained from the maples, and the purple winds
of Autumn swept them into drifts at the roadside.


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